


drag you down

by corpseparty (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aged-Up Character, Anal Sex, BDSM, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Consent Play, F/F, Over the Top, Xeno, biologically unlikely nipples, good god does this need any more tags?, humiliating dirty self-talk???, that is not how fisting works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/corpseparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Vriska likes to say no. A lot. Very loudly.</p><p>Ridiculous PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drag you down

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended to be consensual, but the likelihood of these two having properly negotiated this encounter is ... not good, so be forewarned, I guess.

Vriska’s bulge tents the front of her stupid tangerine pants. It's squirming and absolutely unmistakable, and when you grab her thigh and wrench it up, you can smell that she’s starting to stain herself blue.

“Really?” you say, contemptuous. "This is what gets you off?"

“I’m not like that,” she protests, but it’s tellingly whiny. (You both know the answer anyway.) “I don’t want—”

You grab her, and she writhes frantically in your fingers, humping your hand.

“No,” she says, “oh, fuck no, don’t touch me, don’t you dare—” Her bulge is trying to rip through the cloth to get to you. You give it a few firm strokes, face set in disinterest, and she crumples into moaning.

You pull her pants down. She gets out, “Terezi, fucking stop—” and then you shove your fingers deep into effortlessly slick, wide-open heat.

She clamps down around you with a desperate wail of “ _no_ ,” and then she’s humping back and forth between your two hands, absolutely frantic. Trickles of blue run down your wrist; her bulge has swollen so much it can hardly bend, and her nook is so, so wet.

“No, I don’t want this,” she whines, and sits down on your hand, enveloping your bony fingers easily. “Don’t make me, I don’t want to, it’ll be _embarrassing—”_

"You sound like a wiggler!" you say, "If you keep it up I will spank you for your childishness."

In the meantime, you shove your hand the rest of the way into her ready nook. She clamps down around it with another wail of “Doooooooon’t.” Her bulge jerks against her stomach. You let it curl through your fingers, and she shrieks, “Stop that! I don’t wanna!”

You tug on her bulge warningly.

“Fuck,” she groans. “Oh, oh, oh, noooooo, stop, no, I don’t wanna—” She thrashes in your grip, fucking herself back and forth in your hand, hips rolling, stuffed with your fist.

You brace to hold her. "You're a liar, Vriska Serket," you say, voice gone gravelly and mouth dry as chalk.

“You’re disgusting,” she gasps, “I hate you, no no no stop fuck no stop fuck me—” Her nook seizes. “No, no don’t don’t make me come—” She grabs her bulge with both hands, working it furiously, hips circling.

You press your knuckles into her slippery-hot insides. “Nooo,” she pants, “ _nooo_ , I’m so dirty and disgusting and horrible, fuck me oh god,” and you circle your wrist in her, bite her neck and breathe, “yes you are.”

She bends over for you, shuddering as your hand slips free. You rub up against her ass, letting her feel the way your bulge presses between her cheeks through your leggings. Then you roll them down, freeing yourself. 

Your wet bulge slides down the curve of her skinny grey ass, and she whispers ‘no’ again, convulsive and faint with pleasure. Beyond words, you curl your bulge into her and she shudders down on you, moaning, her hair swaying. A few licorice-black strands stick to her back, and they fill you with hateful tenderness.

You hit her thigh with a closed fist; she screams and bucks back onto you. Her bulge twists around itself, frantic. You can feel her sweat, her heavy breathing, and you shove her forward so she can’t move, pin her to the wall by her stupid horns and claw at her tits, twisting her nipples until she shrieks.

You worm your bulge out of her greedy nook and start working its slick tip against her waste chute.

“I’m dirty,” she keens, “I’m horrible, hurt me, hurt me—”

You slap her bulge. She yelps. It’s choked and horrible and she humps back against your bulge, shuddering, and it’s not _enough_ so you shove her onto her hands and knees and mount her like a beast. You hold her in place with claws and teeth and listen to her spilling out all her vulnerabilities. Her bulge finds its sweet way into your nook as she drips onto the floor and shrieks and stretches around you.

When she comes  it’s effortful, she groans and strains and gasps and her nipples are hard under your fingertips, her stomach jerks taut and her nook squeezes needily on nothing. Then she’s dripping genetic material right on the floor, wailing, “oh, oh, oh” as it patters thickly out of her. She goes rigid and trembling inside you as your bulge massages it out of her, and it is terribly good.

You wring her out. You wring her out until she stinks of sex and is the colour of midnight and covered in bruises. Then you shove her down with your body and grind her hips into her mess, her wasted material, and she moans wantonly, like the licentious unlawful piece of business that you both know she is.

You manage to hold off coming until you get a bucket. You stick it between your trembling thighs and lean forward to rub your bulge against the smooth, cool plastic, and then you’re choking, coming, fingers kneading the outside of your nook, rocking in the center of a world of vermilion pleasure.

When you can finally smell again—when the velvety sensation of come sliding out of you is no longer the only thing you know—you see Vriska on her back, passed out, legs wide, bulge still squirming and nook lacquered with come, and you shove your hands between your legs again, bent double over the bucket.

You try to keep your eyes on her even as they roll back.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm afraid all the "nooo" stuff looks ludicrous, but I wanted to convey that extended "oo" sound for maximum bratty whininess, and italics just weren't doing the trick. What do you think?


End file.
